The sheriff jotted down a note on his pad. “Hearin’ all this, Mr. Dawes, it ’pears you mighta had even more’n one reason for killin’ Wilma. I mean, you see how I gotta check out alla the angles. So s’pose you tell me where you was last night.”
“I was at home. All night.”
“I reckon the Henshaws’ll bear that out?” It was a question.
“Harvey brought me some milk in the library at about eleven. And I said good-night to Mrs. Henshaw about one, just before I went to bed.”
“But you coulda sneaked out after that without their knowin’, right? You coulda come up here, knocked off Wilma an’ gone back home with nobody bein’ the wiser.”
“No I couldn’t. You see, I didn’t have the car. Glory had it. It’s still up here. If I had gone out, I’d have needed a car from somewhere to get here. If I’d borrowed or rented one, you could certainly find it out easily enough.”
“That’s true, Mr. Dawes. I’ll have to check round of course, but for the time bein’ I reckon you’re clean. You can go. Ask Mr. Corrigan to come in on your way out, will you?”
Dawes left, to be replaced by Don Corrigan. He sat down nervously, facing the sheriff.
“What brung you up here, Mr. Corrigan?” The sheriff came directly to the point.
“I came up with Mr. Dawes. To see if I could help. I—I used to be engaged to his daughter.”
“That so? How come she broke the engagement?”
“She didn’t. I did.”
“Why?”
“Personal reasons. It has nothing to do with any of this, sheriff. Believe me.”
“I don’t,” the sheriff told him flatly. “But let it go for now. What about the Malden girl? Talk round town is you was shackin’ up with her in your room a few weeks back. That true?”
“Yes.”
“You kill her?” the sheriff asked idly.
“Of course not! Why would I?”
“Maybe ’cause she stole your fiancee. Maybe ’cause your ex-fiancee stole her. Maybe somethin’ to do with alla this ruckus with Ben Malden. I don’t know. But I’ll tell you this, Mr. Corrigan. Next to Glory Dawes, you sure do figure as the most likely one to a done it. Now s’pose you tell me where you was last night.”
“In my room at the hotel.”
“Can you prove it?”
“No. I went to bed early. About ten. After that I didn’t see anybody and nobody saw me.”
“All right, Mr. Corrigan. That’s all for now. I’ll wanna talk to you again later, back in town. Don’t try nothin’ foolish like runnin’ off or nothin’, now. You be where I can find you real easy. You’re not, an’ I’ll have to put a warrant on you.”
The sheriff escorted Don to the door. He stuck his head out, spotted Vito D’Angelo and beckoned him to come in.
“What do you want from me, sheriff?” D’Angelo asked when they were inside.
“I wanna know ’bout you an’ Wilma Maiden.”
“Strictly private and personal. It has nothing to do with what happened. I’m not involved,”
“What you doin’ in Glenville in the first place, Mr. D’Angelo?”
“I’m here on business.”
“What sorta business?”
“Private business,” D’Angelo told him flatly.
“Now you jus’ look here, mister, they’s been a murder committed an’ I’m the law round here. Now, you gonna cooperate with me?”
“I’ll answer anything you ask me that’s got to do with the crime. Anything else, I got nothing to say.”
“This ain’t New Orleans, mister. I call the shots in this burg. Now you gonna answer whatever I ask you. You get that in your head right off.”
“I have nothing to say until I see my lawyer.”
“A big-city wise guy, huh?”
“I have nothing to say until I see my lawyer,” Vito repeated.
The sheriff approached him threateningly.
“Lay a finger on me, you Reuben, and I’ll sue this hick town for every nickel it’s got!”
The sheriff went back to his chair. “All right, D’Angelo. For now, we’ll jus’ have to play it your way. Will you answer me one question?”
“I ain’t sure. Depends on what it is.”
“Where were you at last night?”
“In my room.”
“All night?”
“All night.”
“Can you prove it?”
“I had company.”
“Who?”
“I ain’t got no more to say until I see my lawyer.”
“All right, D’Angelo. Get outa here,” the sheriff said disgustedly. “But see you don’t leave town.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“Nope. I jus’ want you handy.”
“If I ain’t under arrest, I’ll leave town if I want to.”
“You do an’ I’ll have you picked up like that.” The sheriff snapped his fingers.
“On what charge?”
“Material witness in a murder case. An’ you can tell that to your lawyer if you’ve a mind to! Now get outa my sight, you citified hood!”
D’Angelo left. The sheriff sat thinking a moment. Then he got up and started for the door. Before he reached it, Joe Ambler waddled into the room.
“Joe!” The sheriff was surprised. “What you doin’ here?”
“Jed called me when he couldn’t reach the coroner.”
“Yeah? Why? An’ where the hell is the coroner, anyway?”
“He’s outa town. Visitin’ some relatives upstate. Won’t be back till tomorrow. That’s how come Jed called me. Said as how you had a corpse on your hands an’ he was ’fraid it might get to smellin’ pretty gamey iffen it weren’t put on ice soon. He figgered as how I got the only cold storage in town so I might keep it for you overnight. I brung my truck to haul it back in.”
“You know who it is?” the sheriff asked.
Ambler nodded “Angus jus’ tol’ me. Ain’t many derserved it more, you ask me.”
“I s’pose.” The sheriff remembered then that Morton had mentioned Ambler as being one of the men at the meeting at Barker’s house. “Yeah, you knew ’bout her an’ the Dawes girl an’ what they was doin’, didn’t you?”
“Sure. So’d a lotta others.”
“What else you know ’bout Wilma Maiden? She worked for you when she was a kid, didn’t she?”
“Yep.”
“Anythin’ else?”
“I know she’s a damn good piece a tail.” Ambler grinned.
“You make it with her?”
“Sure. We had a little thing goin’. She’d come round the store every two, three nights an’ we’d have a party.”
“You pretty free admittin’ it,” the sheriff observed.
“Why not?” Ambler shrugged. “You gonna find out bout it sooner‘ or later anyhow, I’spect. Ain’t it better you hear it straight from me? Hell, you ain’t gonna tell my wife on me. Lessen you’re forgettin’ a few things I could tell your wife.”
“Jus’ you knock that off, Joe. Nobody’s sayin’ nothin’ ’bout tellin’ wives nothin’. Alla same, I’d like to know what you was doin’ last night.”
“You think I knocked her off, sheriff? Hell, that’s funny. But it ain’t no sweat, sheriff. I was playin’ poker with the boys at my own house till after two. Then they left an’ me an’ the missus went to bed. We had a little squabble an’ didn’t get to sleep till after four. Way we was goin’ at it, I ’magine the neighbors could tell you I was home all right.”
“Okay, Joe. I jus’ had to ask. No hard feelin’s. I reckon you can take the body an’ keep it on ice for us overnight. Okay?”
“Sure ’nuf, sheriff.“ The fat man waddled out the door.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Word of the murder spread through Glenville like raging fever. That ice pick buried in Wilma’s flesh had turned over a rock, and now the bugs were scurrying for cover. It wasn’t the murderer walking the streets who sparked their panic so much as it was the prospect of an investigation which might bare their own sins to the glare of public righteousness.